The Nicest Guy in America

by Angela Benson

  “Well,” Tam said, “I guess it’s settled.” She grinned broadly at Reggie. “It was nice meeting you. I hope we run into each other again.”

  “My pleasure,” Reggie, the perfect gentleman, said. “And,” he said to Leslie, “I hope you find the house you’re looking for.”

  Kim watched and listened as both her friends said their good-byes with teasing smiles on their lips. The two of them knew exactly what they were doing. And, she feared, so did Reggie. This was much too embarrassing.

  After her two friends turned the corner to the bank of elevators, Reggie said, “So do you really want to eat or do you just want to talk?”

  What she really wanted was to get away from him. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s eat.”

  “Which restaurant do you prefer? There are about three of them in here.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Atlanta is your town, not mine. Why don’t you pick one?”

  He cut her a sideways glance, then turned and faced her fully. “The restaurant of my choice is not in this hotel.”

  “Follow me then,” she said, resisting the urge to ask him what was his favorite restaurant. The irrational image of the two of them sharing a quiet dinner in a dark corner filled her mind. “We’ll go to The Inn if it’s not crowded.”

  He fell into step with her. “Fine with me.”

  Kim felt Reggie was walking too close to her and she wanted to scoot away from him, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he made her nervous. He’d come to her so she had the upper hand in their relationship, if it could be called that, and she wasn’t going to yield it without a fight.

  Chapter 8

  Reggie told himself to keep his mind on the reason for his visit to Ms. Kimberla Washington, but the soft scent of her perfume invaded his senses and forced him to appreciate her feminine attributes. Not that he was interested in her. No, that wasn’t it. But he was a man and, like most men, he responded positively to attractive women. And Ms Kimberla Washington was definitely attractive. Dressed in jeans and a silk blouse as she was today or in the soft-cut suit she’d worn the day of the interview, she made a pretty picture. The pale pink of the blouse she had on now accentuated the darkness of her skin and made her look like an ebony princess. The reddish tinge to her lips made him think about kissing her.

  “Okay,” she said, bringing his thoughts back to safer topics. “It doesn’t appear to be crowded in there.”

  They stood in front of The Inn, a bar/restaurant with a country inn motif. He followed Kim inside and they were quickly seated. In short order, their waitress had delivered their drinks and was off with their meal requests.

  “So what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.

  He sipped from his glass of white wine. “As if you didn’t know.”

  She lowered her eyes in a gesture of innocence, but quickly lifted them as if she realized what she’d done. “The article.”

  He nodded. “Yes, the article. I thought you’d come here to get an interview, not to give one.”

  “I didn’t give an interview,” she explained, recalling Jim had made a similar comment. “I never talked to that reporter.”

  He studied her, surprised she would lie. He’d thought Ms. Kimberla Washington above that type of behavior and told her so.

  “I’m not lying,” she said, eyes blazing. “I didn’t talk to that reporter.”

  He studied her face, flashing eyes and all. He must be losing his mind because he truly believed she hadn’t spoken to the reporter. “Then how do you explain the article in the paper? Do you expect me to believe the reporter made it all up and attributed all those quotes to you?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “I didn’t say that I didn’t say those things. I only said that I didn’t talk to a reporter.”

  At this moment, Reggie understood how Ricky Ricardo felt when he got tangled up in one of Lucy’s adventures. “I’m not following you,” he said, using the kindest phrase that he could think of. “You said those things, but you didn’t say them to the reporter?”

  She nodded. “It’s like this: after my interview with you, the reporters outside your house all wanted to know what I’d found out.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  She sighed impatiently. “I didn’t tell them anything. I didn’t want to see my story in their papers or their magazines so I kept my mouth shut.”

  “But . . .” He knew a but was coming.

  “But there was one reporter, a woman, Glenda, who was more persistent than the others.”

  “And you said some things to her? Off the record, I imagine?”

  Her eyes blazed at him. “Will you stop finishing my sentences? If you’ll listen, I’ll tell the story.”

  He lifted both hands in supplication. “Hey, I’m sorry, but my reputation was smeared in that article. Excuse me for wanting to get to the bottom of the matter.”

  She looked contrite as if she understood his position and felt bad about it. “I didn’t tell her anything. But my friends and I figured out that she must have followed us to the restaurant where we ate dinner and listened in on our conversation. Then she wrote the article without giving me a chance to clarify what she heard or what she thought she heard.”

  Reggie’s hopes rose. “So you were misquoted? You didn’t say the things attributed to you in the paper?”

  “I didn’t say that I didn’t say them. I said the reporter didn’t give me a chance to clarify them. To put them in some context.”

  “So you did say them?”

  Her lips turned down. “I guess so.”

  “What do you mean—you guess so? Either you said them or you didn’t?”

  “I said a lot of things that afternoon. I don’t remember exactly what.”

  “Then maybe she did misquote you. That’s good. We’ll call the paper and ask for a retraction. I should have known you wouldn’t say those kinds of things about me. You’re too fair a woman to make blanket statements like the ones in that article about a man you don’t even know. We can go down to the paper together tomorrow.”

  Reggie looked so pleased with his conclusion and his plan of action that Kim hated to disappoint him. But she had no choice. “It’s not that simple, Reggie.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, “We go down there. We tell them those words don’t reflect your opinions and ask for a retraction.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Because even though I don’t remember saying those exact words, the article pretty much captures my sentiments that day.”

  Reggie’s mouth dropped open. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was disappointed in her. “I know you were a bit peeved when you left our interview, Ms. Washington, but what did I do to make you think so little of me?”

  “It’s not one thing you did, Reggie,” she said, feeling a need to be honest with him “It’s more an attitude. But it’s not just your attitude—it’s the attitude of too many men these days.”

  “This sounds like a stereotype, Kim.”

  “Most stereotypes have their roots in truth. Can you honestly say that you don’t know any men who consider the Nice Guy persona the best way to get over on a lady?”

  “Well,” Reggie sputtered. “I’m not any man. I’m me. And that article was about me.”

  “Well,” she said, becoming irritated with him. “From what I can see, you’re a lot like any man. You use that Nice Guy persona, but you’re no different from the others. You say you’re looking for a nice woman, but I bet you’re looking for some long-legged, light-skinned centerfold who’ll cater to your every fantasy.”

  Reggie didn’t say anything. He only stared at her. And stared at her for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “I don’t know about the guys you’ve been with or the guys you’ve been around, but the man you described is not me.”

  Kim was about to tell him he was wrong, but the waitress chose that moment to return with
their meals. They exchanged pleasantries with the young woman, then waited for her to leave.

  “I didn’t want to believe it was you either,” she said, picking up where she left off, “But I think it is, Reggie.”

  “It is not me.”

  She shook her head, then stabbed her fork into her salmon. “Sometimes it’s hard for us to look at ourselves objectively so I can understand that you don’t see yourself. And I can even understand why you are the way you are.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how I am?” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You seem to be such an authority.”

  She lowered her fork and met his gaze. “I know the man those women described in those nomination letters was a nice guy. But I think something happened to you. Maybe you got tired of being dumped.” She shrugged. “Maybe you got tired of being a nice guy.”

  “Go on,” he said.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, noticing that he hadn’t touched his food.

  He shook his head. “I’d rather finish this conversation.”

  “But you ought to eat before your food gets cold.”

  He dropped his folded arms and leaned toward her. “I’m a thirty-eight year old man and I’ve been feeding myself for quite a few years now, so I think I can handle dinner.” He leaned back. “Go on with your analysis.”

  “Well, you’ve had some bad experiences with women.” She shrugged again. “Maybe you’ve put on a new persona. Maybe you’ve given up on being a nice guy in substance and chosen to be a nice guy in name only.”

  “And what makes you come to that conclusion?”

  His words were calm but the tic in his jaw said he was anything but calm. “That article you wrote for one. On the surface it seems to be a candid analysis of male-female relationships, but underneath I hear a man saying that women can’t be trusted to make decisions for themselves. A man who thinks that because a few women have decided he’s not right for them, that those women are somehow weak-minded or double-minded or whatever it was you called them.”

  He leaned forward, his tic working harder. “If you came to this conclusion based on my article, then why in the world did you interview me for the Nice Guy contest and article?”

  Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. “Because the contest is my job. Your nomination letters and your article present totally different men. I guess I was curious to see who the real Reggie Stevens was.”

  “And you think you know now?”

  She nodded, though she really wasn’t sure. Even now, there was something about Reggie that made her want him to be the nice guy the women spoke of in their letters.

  “After a ninety minute interview, you think you know?”

  She nodded again. “It doesn’t take long, Reggie.”

  “It must not, Ms. Washington. As I remember it, we were getting along well initially. Then bam! I’m still trying to figure out what ticked you off.”

  “I was not ticked off,” she explained. As she remembered the interview, they’d started out flirting, which she’d enjoyed. Then he’d told her about his family and, feeling pretty comfortable with him, she’d even told him a little about hers. But then he’d made his comments about looking for a nice woman and her hackles had gone up. How many times had she heard a brother give her that line? “I don’t think this conversation is getting us anywhere,” she said, “Why don’t we finish dinner and call it a night?”

  “Not on your life,” he said. “That article could end up in newspapers and discussed on radio stations across the country. You’ve given people the idea that I’m some kind of jerk. I can’t call it a night. I have to get my reputation back.”

  Kim gave a silent prayer of thanks. There might be a way for her and Reggie Stevens to get what they wanted. She couldn’t have asked for a better opening. “I have an idea,” she said.

  He eyed her suspiciously. “What? You want to put my face on a dartboard and let the women of America take out their frustrations on it?”

  She chuckled. “Not exactly. I was thinking of something a bit more positive.”

  Reggie tasted his food for the first time. “I’m listening,” he said.

  “My boss still wants you on the cover of Urban Style. In addition, he thinks the two of us should write a column together expressing our differing views on male-female relationships.”

  He lowered his fork slowly. “You’ve got to be kidding. First, you blast me in the paper and now you want to blast me on a regular basis in your magazine. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll pass on that opportunity.”

  Kim sensed the power base changing. She was losing ground because she still needed him for the article and he really didn’t need her. “But you are still going to let me do the photo shoot for the magazine, aren’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Given what you think of me, why do you want me in the article, much less on the cover of your magazine?”

  Kim finished the last of her salmon and pushed her plate away. “The Nice Guy Contest is about what the readers think, not what I think.”

  “But how do I know you’re not going to blast me in the article? I know what you think of me.”

  “And I told you that reporter didn’t give me a chance to put my comments in context. I can assure you that my article will be more than fair to you.”

  “And I’m supposed to take you at your word?”

  “Of course.”

  He laughed then, outright laughed. “You must think I’m stupid. No way.”

  Now she knew the tables had turned. Jim was going to kill her if she lost Reggie. “Don’t make any hasty decisions. Think about it. We’ve already had the interview. Let’s go ahead with the photo shoot. Think about the column. You don’t have to decide now.”

  He leaned forward again. “And what do I get?”

  She licked her lips. She had the strange feeling he was talking about more than the article and the photos. “You get exposure.”

  “I’ve already got exposure.” He grimaced. “More exposure than I want, in fact.”

  “Okay,” she said, trying to think of an appeasement. “What if you write a rebuttal to the article with my comments in it and we print it in the magazine? Wouldn’t that make the photo shoot worth your effort?”

  Reggie cut off another bite of his steak. He could enjoy his dinner now that he had Ms. Washington on the ropes. Yes sir-ree, bob. She needed him. If he guessed correctly, she was probably getting pressure from her boss.

  Yes, this was indeed a fine piece of beef on the plate before him. He took another bite, chewed it slowly, savoring the juices while watching Ms. Washington squirm in hers. “To answer your question, no, I don’t think writing a rebuttal would make the shoot worth my while. I could probably call up any of a dozen radio stations or newspapers and make my case, but I want the words to come from you.” He pointed his fork at her. “I want you to say that you were mistaken. I want you to tell the world that the real Reggie Stevens is a nice guy.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  Reggie wanted to laugh. He knew if it were left up to her, she’d tell him to stuff it. But it wasn’t up to her. “No, I don’t want you to lie,” he said. “I want you to tell the truth about the real Reggie Stevens.”

  “I doubt that,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “What did you say?” he asked, though he’d heard her clearly. For some reason, he took pleasure in watching her squirm. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

  She cleared her throat, clearly impatient and frustrated by his request. “You know what I think, Reggie. Don’t put me in this position.”

  “What position?” he asked. “All I’m asking you to do is help repair a reputation you’ve helped ruin.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re going a bit far. I haven’t ruined your reputation. What I’ve done is keep you in the limelight for a few minutes longer.”

  She was getting a bit too upset so he decided he’d best bring his proposal to closure befor
e she got up and left the restaurant. “You consider yourself a fair person, don’t you, Ms. Washington?”

  He watched as she sat up straighter in her chair as if offended by his question. “Of course, I do. I know I’m a fair person.”

  “In most cases, I assume you are, but I don’t think you’ve been very fair in your assessment of me.”

  “I go with the evidence presented,” she stated with finality.

  “That’s just it,” he said. “What evidence do you have? A few letters from women you don’t know and a brief interview. Do you really think that’s enough to go on? Do you really think that’s enough to build a newspaper story?”

  He had her there. She didn’t think the newspaper article had been done responsibly, but she knew there was no sense asking for a retraction when she basically agreed with the statements made. “Let’s just say if I had been the reporter doing that story, I would have handled it much differently.”

  “So you agree that the newspaper article was written prematurely?”

  Hadn’t she just said that? “I do.”

  “At least we agree on something. Now what are we going to do about it?”

  The gleam in his eyes told her that he had a suggestion. It also told her that she probably wouldn’t like it. “You tell me,” she said.

  “It’s simple. How do most people get to know each other?”

  “Look, Reggie, enough with the guessing games. Out with it.” Kim knew he was toying with her and she didn’t like it one bit. If Jim hadn’t been so adamant about having the guy in the magazine, she’d—

  “All you have to do is spend some time with me.”

  It was worse than she’d imagined. “Spend some time with you?”

  He grinned. God help her, even though he was talking crazy, his grin made her stomach do flip-flops.

  “You may be young, Ms. Washington, but I’m sure you’ve heard of the concept.”

  “You’re talking about dating? You and me?” She pointed from herself to him.

  He nodded.

  “You can’t be serious. I’m here to work, not date.” This was a crazy idea. She couldn’t believe he’d even brought it up. “You’ve got to come up with something else.”